


Midnight

by 17craic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, top!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 11:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17craic/pseuds/17craic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grimmy hosts a New Year's party at which Louis and Harry go about some sexy hijinks.<br/>or<br/>How I wish Harry had welcomed in 2013 instead of being in New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight

Pounding bassline, strangers shouting, singing, hot and sweaty, spilt drinks and wet kisses in the corner, push through the crowd.  
“Grimmy!”  
“Styles! How’s it going, man?”  
“Not bad, decent party you got going on here mate.”  
“Yeah, it’s pretty mental!”  
“Yeah man! Hey, listen, you seen any of the lads around?”  
“Sure have, Zayn was lighting up on the balcony a couple of minutes ago, might have had Niall with him, I dunno. He should still be there.”  
“Thanks dude.”  
“No problem, enjoy yourself!”  
“Will do.”  
Sea of hot bodies, hands in the air, jump jump jump jump.  
French door, cold air, haze of cigarette smoke, city lights spread out below.  
“Hey Haz.”  
Zayn and Niall swirling smoke rings over the landscape in front of them.  
“Better not let Amy see that.”  
“She’ll taste it on his tongue later anyway.”  
Blush, look down. “Shut up, Zayn.”  
“Aw, don’t be shy, we all know you two are getting it on.”  
“Leave him alone, Zayn.”  
“Reckon she’ll let you eat her out?”  
“Piss off.”  
Shoved in the chest. Cigarette flicked over the edge, door slams.  
“You upset him.”  
Shrug. “He’ll get over it as soon as Amy shoves her tongue down his throat.”  
“You’re still a twat.”  
“Whatever.” Fumble with packet. “Want one?”  
“Sure.”  
Spark, flame. Breathe in deep, warm smoke filling lungs, bitter taste. Cold metal railing pressing through his shirt, stomach, elbows.  
“So where’s your toy boy then?”  
Breathe out, ashes floating in tumbling spirals.  
“Lost him ages ago. Alex dragged him off.”  
“Did he bring anyone from the Doncaster crowd?”  
“A couple.” Tense.  
“Stan?”  
“Yup.” Fingers clenched tight on the icy balustrade.  
“Stop worrying, would you? That’s old history. Louis only has eyes for you.”  
Couple more deep inhales, exhales. “Has he actually told you that?”  
“No, but like, he doesn’t have to. Anyone can see it, Haz. Stop being a jealous little bitch. Louis fucking loves you, okay? You’d never think of being with anyone else, right, and neither would he. Stan’s been his mate since like, forever. They’ll always be close. You need to chill out and let this-“ fingers brush clenched fist “-go.”  
Patterns of smoke in the air.  
“Yeah, I suppose you’ve got a point.”  
Party thuds on. Crushed smokes on the glass table, step back inside. Sticky mass of grinding bodies.  
Cold beer pressed into his hand, condensation, slips, saved. Bass so loud, people’s lips move but create no sound. Gulp, fizz, swallow. On the dance floor, hands brushing hips, thighs, bums. Smudged makeup, short skirts, feels like a sauna. Maz showing off in a circle, push to the edge, bounce, cheer.  
Arms around his waist, familiar strength. He knows these hands. Louis. Smirk, brief sideways kiss over his shoulder. Thighs rubbing, hips grinding, arse pressed to crotch. Fingers running over waist, sides, bum. Lips on his neck, searching for the perfect place. Nip of teeth on skin, moan, grind on him harder. Pulled around, one hand on his hip, the other cupping his arse. Slide an arm around his neck. Crotch to crotch, friction. So sweaty, so close, so turned on. Crowd too involved in someone else to care.  
Sleazy beat cut off, someone on the microphone, time for the countdown.  
Ten. Blue eyes can’t break away from the green.  
Nine. Breathing hard.  
Eight. Louis’ hand wandering across his stomach.  
Seven. Running along the top of his underwear.  
Six. Tucking a thumb into the waistband.  
Five. Chest to chest.  
Four. Nose to nose.  
Three. Not interested in the countdown any more.  
Two. No gaps between them.  
One. Eyes flutter shut.  
Cheers explode around them as their lips finally meet. 2013. A hot, wet kiss, tongues pushing, fingers bruising, breath panting. Lock hands, push through all the couples, hallway, bedroom.  
“Lou, we can’t-“  
Cut off with another kiss and a groping hand on his cock, can’t argue with that. Door shoved shut, hastily locked.  
Hit the bed, Louis on top, pull off clothes, taste each other’s mouths in between. So hard, love bites. Butterfly kisses trailed over his stomach, Louis takes him in, tongue doing incredible things, lets him buck into his throat, and again. Heavenly. On the brink.  
“Roll over, babe.”  
Complies, hands and knees, one finger, two. Relax, breathe. Louis gently nudging in, very cautious.  
“Okay?”  
“Uh huh.”  
Building it up, slowly, slowly, but then losing control. Harry in his hand, blood pulsing through him, moaning louder with each jerk. Hitting the right spot. Groans of each other’s names, filthy swear words, so, so close. Ride the high, vision white, every touch amplified a hundred times. Spill over at the same time, a hot, sticky mess.  
Collapse onto the sheets, sweat-soaked skin pressed on each other. Lips, tongues, nothing else matters.  
Awareness finally soaks back through, vague sounds of fireworks over the party’s pounding soundtrack. Stand naked at the window. “Lou, come and see.”  
Arm slips around his waist.  
Lights scatter across the sky, each one a temporary star.  
“Happy new year.”  
“You too.”  
Hand cups his jaw, turns his face. Soft lips, slow, delicate, perfect.  
“We’d better rejoin the party.”  
“Yeah.”  
Another gentle kiss, clothes, attempt to neaten hair. Flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Pat on the bum, out the door.  
A good start to the year.


End file.
